


everything must fall apart

by damnneovelvet



Series: to write or not to write [5]
Category: Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, F/F, Feelings, Ficlet, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied Sexual Content, Kang Seulgi-centric, Light Angst, Weddings, i don't know what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27515467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damnneovelvet/pseuds/damnneovelvet
Summary: "Do you love me?"Seulgi opens her mouth to answer, and she speaks, but all the world hears is the garbled admission of a truth that deserves to remain buried.
Relationships: Bae Joohyun | Irene/Kang Seulgi
Series: to write or not to write [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1913998
Comments: 23
Kudos: 53





	everything must fall apart

**Author's Note:**

> I was working on my other wips but this happened out of nowhere, so here -- a Ficlet. It's not edited, so please overlook any errors made in haste.

The wind roars in Seulgi's ears, carrying with it the cries of a child long lost. The chiffon of her dress clings to the skin of her back, as thin as the peel of a shrivelling onion and as wet as a fingertip dipped in mercury. 

When she opens her eyes, she finds miles of white sand stretching from one end to the other. In the distance, waves of salt fight to reach land, but Seulgi doesn't see it. She hears the voices of a sweat-slick summer that dies a little death in her heart with every passing day. She hears the trickle of water down ivory skin, past the dips of a swollen stomach and past thighs that squelch under her tight fingers because they were never made of human skin or human fat. 

There is an ocean somewhere. At the bottom of it lies a pearl. Its name is regret.

There are footsteps where she goes, with petals of roses, daisies, peonies — every flower she can think of — prettying the uneven ground. It must be the right place. Seulgi walks ahead, in search of the shore, her throat parched.

There is no sky overhead.

//

"I'm getting married," Joohyun says — no, declares.

If it were anywhere else, Seulgi would have cried. But here, in the warmth of her soft, cotton bedsheets, one smooth leg tossed over her shoulder and one hand fisting the curls of her hair, Seulgi can't.

"Oh, congratulations." 

She licks her lips, raises her head from where a red blossom decorates a plush thigh and bites her bottom lip for good measure when Joohyun meets her eyes. She trails a finger down her cleavage, enticing. It's a trap. It has always been a trap. Joohyun's eyes never waver, dark with a determination more than desire. Seulgi needs to fix that. 

"I'm serious about this," Joohyun whispers, her voice threatening to disappear under the noise of the streets below them. 

Seulgi rubs one thumb over the swell of Joohyun's lips — red, because of her, because they kissed — and the other over a supple knee that clicks whenever she bends it. She bends down again, mouthing wherever she knows makes Joohyun gasp, makes her see stars in broad daylight, like the ones they stuck on her bedroom ceiling together many years ago. 

Joohyun's breasts look inviting, chest flushed, but she doesn't dare touch them. Tomorrow, or maybe a day later, or even after then — but forever — someone else will be fondling them, squeezing them, leaving bruises with their teeth in places that should be worshipped. She sighs. Seulgi pushes Joohyun's leg off and wipes her mouth with the back of a quivering hand — one foot numb and stuck in a pool of discarded shirts.

"Will you stop if I ask you to?" Seulgi asks.

Outside the bedroom, snowflakes drift and settle on the windowsill. Joohyun's voice travels lighter, just as shaky, "Will you ask me to stop?"

Seulgi scoffs. There are a thousand other things to do today. There are mugs to be washed, coffee to be brewed. A rolled-up newspaper waits in her paper basket. There are sweet good morning messages to be sent to Joohyun, there are bagels to be bought and shared over cluttered desktops — with Joohyun — and there are things to be shared, like words, like kisses, like the tickle of eyelashes against necks. All with Joohyun. 

Her stomach burns. Then, it's in her throat. Before Seulgi knows her chest is warping into the shape of its desire — freshly hollowed. 

A shoulder turns and one body splits into two unequal halves.

"Will it change your mind?" 

"I don't know."

"Spend the night then," Seulgi says, breath gradually ceasing, "it might be our last."

//

There is no sky overhead because there's the tarpaulin of a silvery tent. If Seulgi lowers her head, the blue sky would greet her like a friend, but she doesn't. She prefers to wait for the ceremony to finish before allowing her mascara to run. Later, when everything is over — when she is sucked dry like the roots of a long-dead plant — she will wait for the sunset. It must look beautiful.

As she follows the trail of flowers, she finds lamps, then stands of counterfeited Greek architecture, and then she finds herself toeing the frayed length of a long carpet between two neat columns of chairs. 

Jewelled feet say hello. Heavy rouge asks her how she's doing. Brown curls bounce over and complain about their boss.

"It's unfair," the voice says, "how Joohyun gets to marry a handsome, rich boy and we get more files to sort. Did you see my schedule? I have to put in overtime, all the unchecked data that was supposed to be done by her," the voice pouts.

"We have our work cut out for us." Seulgi chimes in.

"I'm happy for her, though. She's been waiting for a long time. I heard it's an arranged marriage? I never knew she was from a big family, only if I had known…"

"She isn't," Seulgi says, fingers digging into the rough fabric, feet looking for sand where they are bound, with voices in her head telling her to keep her mouth sealed, "now she will be."

"I can't wait to get married and get away from the city."

"Same." It's a lie.

A hand grasps Seulgi's wrist, warm, and it leads her to where she's supposed to wait and feel herself burn to ashes, to be carried away by the wind. How many lovers are mixed into the sand she treads on? She will never know. The hand on her wrist — it's the wrong hand.

//

Of all the places they could have run into each other, they meet in front of the sprawling mirrors in a company bathroom. Two women. They wash their hands, they pull out their lipsticks and comb their hair. Seulgi chances a glance every possible moment because — God help her — she is entranced by the lady standing next to her, with trembling hands and knees knocking against the marble counter.

Joohyun looks good. She isn't supposed to, not when she hasn't spoken to Seulgi since that last day many months ago.

"I heard you're resigning," Seulgi says matter-of-factly. She dries her hands with a paper towel, afraid that if she uses the hand blower, the sound will steal all potential of a conversation.

"I'm getting married, I told you," Joohyun says, her voice clipped.

She steers past, her heels clicking harshly, unwilling to acknowledge the bundle of crushed bricks she is leaving behind.

"You're selling your independence, sure, Joohyunie." 

It is the wrong thing to say and the wrong name to use. Seulgi blinks, then turns towards the mirror, staring at her own reflection because Joohyun is a goddess who has come to hunt her and looking at her will turn Seulgi to stone. Her face is paler than it should be. Against the black doors lined up behind her and the black of her suit, Seulgi feels like she's attending a funeral. Perhaps she is. Her own.

"What do  _ you _ know about independence?" Joohyun snaps. 

"I know enough. At least I get to keep my job and I get to be me and I get to choose who I stay in love with." This flavour of honesty is novel. Seulgi chides herself for never saying what she wants to say. 

All she wants is to fall to the floor and pull Joohyun with her, to allow them to melt till their skins are one and the earth gapes open. Which will never happen. They live separated by hands that have touched the wrong places and nerves that have been torn. Seulgi swallows thickly. She doesn't like the shift in Joohyun's expression: hurt, pensive, then collected.

"Do you love me?" 

Seulgi opens her mouth to answer, and she speaks, but all the world hears is the garbled admission of a truth that deserves to remain buried. 

She clears her throat.

"...I do. I always have, but it won't change a thing now, will it?" 

The door flings open. Another pair of girls burst in, giggling, and the tension breaks. Joohyun walks closer, then gently squeezes Seulgi’s shoulder before turning away once again.

"It's at a beach, in November. I'll send you an invitation."

Seulgi smiles — the cracks in her lipstick unfilled because there are no lips to kiss and slide them full.

"Don't worry, I will attend."

//

At the altar, Joohyun stands like a beautiful doll — and that's all she has become, joints rusty, eyes glassy, moving at the whims of a greater being — and her veil flutters in the chilling breeze. 

Seulgi wonders if they will call for objections. She has many.

She wants to ask if this man knows where all the moles on Joohyun's body are, how she likes her pasta on lazy nights, what perfume she keeps for special days, what music plays on her phone when she's had a bad day. Does he know? Does he? If he doesn't yet, he will someday, and what Seulgi fears at her core isn't losing this version of Joohyun — pretty, strong — but she shivers at the thought of never knowing who Joohyun will become.

Will she still like wearing clear gloss a year from now? Will she still paint her nails in the dead of the night, eyes as round as glistening silver pennies?

Most of all, will she still have Seulgi's number saved on her phone? 

Probably not.

Sitting on a plastic chair that slowly continues sinking into the sand, realisation seeps through the pores that pierce through Seulgi's veins. This is it. This is what she will never have. There is no one to blame but herself, and she wishes she could cry as if the heavens tore but she can't. Not today.

"I do." And two words have never been this hurtful before.

They exchange rings. He kisses her forehead, then her nose and then her — and Seulgi closes her eyes. Some things are better left unseen.

//

"Seulgi…" Joohyun is here. She wears the mark of another person but she's here, at the edge of the world where Seulgi stands with her toes dipped in gently lapping water. 

The wedding is over. People are merry: dancing, drunk, with smears of cake icing on their expensive dresses, their phones overflowing with pictures of duck-faced selfies. Seulgi wants to be one of them. She desperately does. But how can she, when the love of her life has slipped through her greasy fingers? Karmic retribution perhaps. She feels pressure behind her eyes, near the hinge of her jaw, on the bottom of her incorrigible tongue.

"Congratulations on your wedding, Joohyunie." She says because there is nothing else left to be spoken.

"Won't you come and dance?" Joohyun asks. 

Of course. A lovely host on top of being a lovely bride. She looks divine. Her veil hangs to the small of her back, and it is Seulgi's favourite thing on her because Joohyun deserves to be hidden away from eyes that want to chisel away her glory. Her eyes are beautiful. She is vibrant, so full of life, and Seulgi is nothing but a decalcifying piece of broken marble in a beaker built of eggshells. Everything must fall apart.

"I can't dance with you. What's the point if I can't?" Seulgi looks into the distance. The sun is yet to set. It bleeds golden, just like the traces of her love.

"Joohyunie." She reaches out for a lace-covered arm, holds it with all the reverence she has been saving for this final moment, "Have a happy life. I love you."

It might be a trick of the light, but for a second, it seems like Joohyun's eyes glaze over with tears. 

"I love you too. Have a happy life, Seulgi."

Seulgi raises Joohyun's hand, covering it with both of her own, and places a soft peck on it, leaving behind the slightest stain of pink. Her eyes remain closed all the while. She allows her hand to slip away — and never again will they hold hands, Seulgi is sure of this — with a small smile. 

Joohyun's husband whisks her away and it leaves Seulgi to wade through the seawater until the wet chiffon weighs her down like bait for man-eating fish. A flake of salt settles on her tongue but it is bitter. She drowns in its depth, allowing her shell to melt and leave behind bones. Someday, when a fisherman walks here, his feet will prickle with the feeling of walking over a rotten heart.

On the way back home, she follows a wisp of cloud through the window and finally cries.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> She will find love. Both of them will.
> 
> \--
> 
> Lower your Shoulders and Unclench your Jaw. Stay hydrated.


End file.
